#dragon age fiona

[lola1b]

"Enchanters! A time has come for battle lines. We will cut these knotted ties, And some may live and some may die."

First Dragon Age Fanart in a while. Not too happy with the result but I do like how Fiona looks.

Psst, you should join my server:

[seriouslyseravellan]

listing people of colour in Dragon Age is like:

Zevran (but he was whitewashed in DA2)

Merrill (but she was whitewashed in DA2)

Fenris (but he was whitewashed in DA2)

Isabela (but she was whitewashed in DA2)

Duncan (but he was whitewashed)

Adaia (but apparently the devs don't know what a black woman looks like)

Alistair (but he was whitewashed)

Fiona (but she was whitewashed)

Sera (but she was whitewashed)

Solas (but he was whitewashed)

Josephine

Vivienne

Dorian

and there are most definitely more, but these were what I could remember off the top of my head.

additionally, I am white, so PLEASE CORRECT ME if I've said something wrong in this post.

edit: credit to sspellweaver, Briala was also whitewashed.

[anneapocalypse]

Fiona's Regret

"The Grey Warden, Alistair, they tell me… he died? In the Fade?"

[ealyblu]

She's a legend, she's an icon and she is the moment

[ladydulazy]

[thedreadfulwolf]

...so is it canon that Maric has a thing for elves?

[spainkitty]

The Fiona is Secretly Alistair's Mother Scenes Part 2

Lanil's Pieces Masterlist

Her advisors talked over her head, and she let them. Their voices were a familiar and by now comforting backdrop. In her hands she read over the missive from King Alistair. His missive wasn't long, nor terribly eloquent. At all. It made Lavellan like him despite their first and only meeting. A little bit. He seemed like someone she could be friends with. Or at least laugh with in between wanting to slap him upside the head.

...I'm hoping you'll help. Something something grateful something. Wait... did you just write that? You scribes do this on purpose, don't you?

She grinned and shook her head. Even his scribes and staff teased him. Despite the circumstances they were all in, despite the request he made now, he did seem... happy. Or well. Perhaps just well. But he was definitely and completely himself, with no pretenses and an easy humility that didn't make him weak. Just... human. The common king, that's what they called him, right? Would King Maric be proud of him? Would Fiona... want to see this?

"Leliana," Lavellan said, before she could think about it.

"Yes, Inquisitor?"

She held up the paper. "This is a copy, right?"

"Yes, I keep the originals in a locked box for a short time, and then I burn them. The more incriminating, I burn sooner."

Lavellan blinked. "Have you burnt the original of this one?"

"Not yet. It's not especially--"

"And he signed it, himself?" She waved the paper where Alistair's name was obviously not a personal signature.

"Why, Inquisitor, are you asking for the king's autograph?" Leliana asked, smirking. "I know him quite well. I'm sure he'd be delighted to send you something more personal."

"Oh yes, I'm absolutely enamored of him," Lavellan drawled. "Didn't you know I love them Ferelden, human, and forgetting to put their crowns on before they burst in and yell at me. I especially love it when they're already married and infamously besotted. I'll kiss his autograph good night and dream of elf-blooded princes and princesses."

Josephine and Leliana were already laughing by the time she got to the kissing part.

"I don't think the Hero of Ferelden would like it much," Josephine said. "I hear she's quite fierce with a bow."

"Please, flirt with Alistair as obviously as possible. He'll get so confused and then maybe Aleandria will come back from wherever she is," Leliana teased.

"Yes, the danger of getting shot with a bow so you can flirt with a married man sounds greatly appealing," Cullen noted dryly.

Lavellan's lips twitched as Josephine and Leliana laughed again.

"But truly, could I have the original? I..." She looked down at those last few lines. "I think I know someone who would like to see this. It would mean a lot to... them."

"Do you trust them not to forge his signature or lose it?" Leliana asked, although she looked like she wanted to do anything but say yes.

"She--They'll probably burn it themselves just so that wouldn't happen. I think. Yes, I trust them." She nodded decisively.

"That fills me with confidence, Inquisitor," Leliana said with a frown. Lavellan grinned. "As you wish. But if Ferelden is suddenly filled with remarkably good forgeries of King Alistair's autograph, I'll tell him who's at fault."

"Oh good, I'll finally be able to meet the true love of my life again. Tell him I pine for him, will you." She set the copy of the missive on the desk and turned to walk out.

"If you like, I could send him a scented handkerchief along with our reply!" Josephine suggested.

"Do you think he prefers pine trees or horse sweat?" Lavellan asked over her shoulder. "I'm sure you know what's best. Also, I don't have a handkerchief."

"Perhaps I should leave the meetings early. I'm starting to regret taking my time," Cullen muttered under his breath as he gathered up his papers.

"Of course, dear Commander. But just think, you would've missed such crucial information," Leliana said, eyes dancing wickedly.

"That you three can't be serious the moment someone brings up romance?"

"Ferelden. Human. Well, that's two out of three, isn't it?" Josephine asked Leliana innocently. "Leliana, isn’t the Commander Ferelden and human?"

Paper scattered over the floor and the large, heavy, war table skidded over stone when Cullen bumped, hard, against the edge. He winced and bent over double, muttering to the Maker.

"Why yes, Josie, I think he is. Perhaps he also would like a handkerchief scented with pine trees and horse sweat?"

"I definitely regret staying longer."

...

The original message from King Alistair was on her bed when she went up after training to wash before dinner. It was an innocuous little roll of parchment, tied with a pink bow, but Lavellan was sure of what it was before she even opened it. His name at the bottom was a messy scrawl, wide, loopy, and hurried. His big A was written the same way she wrote them, and she didn't know why it was such a jolt to see.

Leliana said once that Lavellan's writing looked Chantry-educated. King Alistair must've been, too, like Cullen. She rolled the parchment, tied it off, and decided she'd wait to wash. She wanted to give this to the right person immediately.

The library was hushed and serene, the smell of parchment and paper and ink like a soothing balm. She wasn't much of a reader, so she didn't know why she liked it so much, but she did. Her hand trailed along the bannister as she made her way to the former Grand Enchanter.

"Inquisitor, it is a pleasure," Fiona greeted, her husky voice sounding genuinely pleased. "It'll be time to dine soon. Would you care to join us this evening?"

Lavellan blinked. "Oh. That sounds like... a really good idea, actually. Does Dorian join you sometimes?"

"Yes. He's always amusing. There are a few that..." Fiona broke off with a guilty frown. "A few that are uncomfortable with a Tevinter, after... everything. But he has charmed most."

"That sounds like Dorian," Lavellan agreed, grinning. "But I didn't come for that, but I will, if the offer is--"

"Any time. You are always welcome among us. You are our Inquisitor, savior, and sister in magic."

There was something about that. Something that eased a tension inside her. She had made the mages her allies, she felt no shame or regret about it, but she'd been so careful to keep them at arm's length. Not wanting to show a distinct favoritism when hundreds of soldiers were ready outside to die for her, and she hadn't had to prove much of anything to any of them. Well, she had, but it hadn't been on purpose.

But she was a mage. And the idea of spending an evening among them, her other people and just as integral to who she was, was impossible to resist.

Lavellan took out the scroll and handed it to Fiona. It was even easier than she thought it would be, although Leliana's uncertainty and suspicions still echoed in her head.

"What's this?" Fiona unrolled it, eyes scanning the short text. A hand raised to her mouth to stifle the almost silent gasp.

"It's the original, so he signed it himself. I thought... I couldn't introduce you, maybe it is too late, but maybe you'd like that." Lavellan shrugged, discomforted by the sudden pallor of Fiona's skin.

Maybe it had been a bad idea after all.

"Da'len, ma serannas."

Lavellan startled at Fiona using Elvish. She was just as startled at the swell of emotion that throbbed throughout each word, making her thick Orlesian accent even thicker.

"Excuse me, that was... inappropriate." Fiona rolled the paper back. "He is... exactly like his father. I can hear Maric in his words. How... extraordinary." She was smiling her placid, gentle smile, but Lavellan could see a tremble at the corner of it. "Thank you for this." She held out her hand.

Lavellan took the scroll mutely. Fiona bowed her head, a minute gesture of respect, then turned away. Her steps were not hurried, her posture relaxed. But Lavellan had no doubt the mage was heading somewhere private.

She knew that look.

Lavellan glanced down at the paper. Leliana would be relieved and pleased to have it back. It was, in fact, better this way.

But in her room, hidden in the corner of her pillowcase, the only two messages from clan Lavellan she'd ever have were wedged tight. A crumpled ball immovable, unreadable, but there.

"Grand Enchanter," Lavellan said, striding across the floor. There was an almost imperceptible pause before Fiona turned.

"Just Fiona is acceptable, Inquisitor."

"Uh. Right. Here." She grabbed Fiona's hand and shoved the message there. She then quickly backed up, hands clasped behind her. "To remember your friend. To remind you his son is well. And happy."

"Inquisi--"

"I have to go wash up and get changed if I want to be on time for dinner. I'll see you then." Lavellan spun on her heel and fled the tower.

Fiona glanced down at the slightly mangled paper. Then, she slipped it into her pocket, eyes a little too bright.

To Part I

[aghostwithnoname]

I love characters who act selfishly to protect the people they love. Absolutely will 1000% hit that trope like a line of coke. I have no moral qualms about this.

[chevalierlogan]

“Do you need to say good-bye?” Maric asked him cautiously. He shook his head. “No,” he rasped. “I did that long ago.” - Dragon Age: The Calling

[deeplord]

her good boy

[lola1b]

WIP of Fiona. Cause she is the revolutionary, ya know. She did decide to end the circles. I just don't know what the fuck I'm doing on the left....

[femmehysteria]

I'm doing a series of "Best Character Named X" polls where all the characters have the same first name but are from completely different media, feel free to send in name/charcacter suggestions, I'm posting one poll a day, check my pinned post for active polls

[wheretheresawyll]

The Morrigan/Leliana to Lae'zel/Shadowheart pipeline is so, so real

[an-established-butt-dent]

“Solas?“

“Yes, Vhenan."

“What are you drawing?“

He still has his eyes on the piece of parchment in front of him, but slows down the repetetive movements of his hand tracing the shapes on paper, as if that might offer him more time to find his answer. "Oh, just some practice. It helps me sort my thoughts," he says with the casual air of somebody trying to evade a question.

“Can I see, then?“

He glances up briefly and notices she has stopped reading her book on the early history of Neromanian magic. She has one elbow propped up on the table and rests her chin on her hand. She is looking at him expectantly, her book clearly forgotten.

He pauses the scratchy movements of his pencil and says rather hesitantly.

"It's not finished."

She leans forward a bit more, trying to catch a glimpse at his paper. He subtly angles it away from her. She might have barely noticed, had she not noted his newfound secrecy regarding his recent drawings. She has become increasingly curious over the past few weeks, and his forced casual demeanor after her question only fills her with more anticipation.

It makes her think of the first time he showed her his artwork. …

The first time she had walked into the rotunda in Skyhold and found Solas high up on the scaffolding with a paint brush in his hands and a concentrated look on his face, she was surprised to learn of his motivation.

"History needs to be documented," he had said when she asked him what he was working on.

After climbing down the scaffolding and taking a step back to admire the process of his work, he continued, "Not by the words of diplomats, but through the eyes of those skilled in artistry. Words will be forgotten, but images? Those will hold significance across time."

She had been moved then. By the bold lines in the fresco and the fierce look in his eyes as he regarded her as he spoke. Like she was someone worthy of admiration. Like he truly saw her. It reminded her of his words before their first kiss.

'You change everything.' He had said.

She didn't really believe him then. She didn't want to be put on a pedestal, far removed from the world and the simple and nomadic lifestyle of her clan that she was accustomed to. She missed roaming mountains and hills, not fighting blighted Templars and navigating treacherous games of power with nobles. That life had seemed like such a long time ago, even though it had barely been a year.

But perhaps she didn't need to suffer though all of this alone. She had her friends. Dorian with his jokes. Varric with his stories. Cassandra with her quiet support and camaderie. Iron Bull helping her with her fighting stances and teaching her new drinking games with Cullen. Even Cole, though he was still figuring out what the word friend even meant. She would help him with that, she had decided then. Friends; they made the aching pull of homesickness more bearable.

But Solas.

Who was he to her? She could call him her friend the supposed. She had the feeling they were becoming closer and yet there was an undeniable distance. Always leaving space for interpretation and mystery while never backing away from any of her questions. So much knowledge he shared, and still she had the feeling she barely knew him at all. He had slowly and unknowingly developed a talent for surprising her with new insights and he did so later again that same evening.

The next hour passed quickly while they were still talking about art and the different depictions of elven lore. He had stared at her intently for a moment, considering her.

"I want to show you something." he had said.

She never passed up an opportunity to learn more so she had indulged him, following him to a plain-looking crate to the side of the room. He removed the protective wards with a wave of his hand. He then uncovered some, by the looks of it, handbound books. He observed them one by one carefully, with a nod of acceptance when he seemingly found what he was looking for and handed her one of the books.

As she opened the first few pages she discovered they were sketchbooks filled with rough outlines in preparation for the next installment of the mural.

Excitedly he pointed to notes in the margin and spoke of where he learned the techniques for collecting and grinding his own pigments. There was a red ocre in the Western Approach that he had recently discovered on one of their missions which was apparently incredibly well suited for his purpose. At her encouragement he had shown her more of of his other drawings too. First of symbolism and color studies, but then more personal ones: of the views of the mountains from Skyhold, running Halla, drying herbs and even of some of the members of the inquisition she recognized.

In turn she told him about how she used to carve wood, especially when winters were rough and her clan was stuck in the same place for long waiting out the biting cold and punishing snow. To keep her fingers from freezing and her mind from wandering to dark places, she had started to carve.

"I haven't had the time since, well you know, this whole mess." she waved the fingers of her marked hand which flashed a sliver of green. Solas had looked thoughtful after her comment, almost like there was a tinge of regret behind his eyes.

The conversation steered in a different direction afterwards, like the seriousness of their predicament weighted more heavily on their shoulders than before. The mysterious books disappeared back into the chest and not long after she had excused herself and called it a night. Somehow she couldn't shake the feeling she had overstepped.

A few days later she returned from a short scouting mission. She climbed the steps to her sleeping quarters, exhausted. She hardly noticed there was an odd-shaped package leaning against her bedroom door until she almost stumbled over it. Her tiredness trading itself for curiosity, she moved to pick it up.

There was no note attached but once she unwrapped the bundle she discovered a beautiful and distinctive elven carving knife and a solid piece of oak wood.

She couldn't help the warm feeling that spread though her body, feeling the comforting weight of the wood and the cool metal of the knife in her hands.

….

She shakes her head as she's brought back to the present. That same rotunda they have since spend so much of their time together. Researching, reading and talking. There had been barely an evening where she didn't end up in the rotunda with Solas. At least when she wasn't away from Skyhold, trying to save the world on missions throughout Thedas.

She looks at Solas from her spot at the table with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

It takes a lot of effort to hide her smile.

Whith an amused tilt to the corner of her lips she says, "You know, Dorian told me he found some sketchbooks laying around, depicting a rather familiar elf. Anything you would know about that?"

Is he… Is he blushing?

"Um, Well you see." he cleares his throat trying to school his expression. "Those were private… And hidden for a reason."

She can't contain a smile. Solas flustered, that's a rare sight.

"You've seen them?" he askes quietly. She notices he has started fumbling with the edges of the paper. She didn't believe his ears could turn a brighter shade of pink.

"Maybe," she says while averting her eyes to the ceiling. She glances back to him out of the corner of her eyes.

Solas looks at her like she has grown an extra pair of ears.

She leans back in her chair and stretches out her legs comfortably under the table. Knowing she has him she doesn't want to push more and decides to spare him some of her teasing. She turns to look at him and softens her expression.

"I rather liked them."

Knowing that is probably not enough to explain why she had looked at his private belongings without permission and seeing the dumbfounded expression on his face slowly making space for embarrassment she decides to tell the whole story.

"I know shouldn't have overstepped, but Dorian said he had something urgent to discuss and before I was even halfway up the stairs he assaulted me with flying books, shouting about discovering my secret admirer. Either I would have stumbled to death or caught them. And, well… Once I started looking I couldn't look away… " she trails off with a slight tinge of shame in her voice.

"You liked them?“

She lookes at him, surprised by the hopefulness in his voice.

A wave of understanding washes over her.

He hid the drawings from her, not because he didn't want her to see them but because he was afraid of her rejection. Even though they had spent the last few months becoming more and more tangled up with each other, stealing fleeting glances and sometimes passionate kisses, they still hadn't really taken a moment to talk about what there was between them.

When she saw the drawings he made of her she had finally understood his interest in her was genuine and went beyond anything resembling a casual dalliance - something she can now confess to have been rather afraid of, because she had developed deeper feelings for him from the moment he started sharing detailed stories dreamt in the fade and his perspective on magic intertwined with life. And then there had been that first kiss… Wel let's just say she's in way too deep to turn back now.

And for all the effort he put into keeping emotional distance between them, he had apparently failed from the moment he had started putting her likeless on paper. For she could see the passion and emotion in the lines, soft shadows and hidden meanings. It made them stand out from all the other drawings she had seen by his hand.

What he couldn't yet put into words, he had found a different way of showing.

"Yes I-" suddenly feeling unsure she pauses for a moment and crosses her arms looking for the right words. "The drawings, they reminded me of who I could be." She takes a deep breath finds her courage and continues. "Someone who people will tell stories about. Not stories about Divine intervention, but of an elven woman's fight for justice. For a kinder world. Somehow I never really managed to see myself that way when I look in the mirror. But those drawings… I guess it's easier to understand who I've become by seeing myself through your eyes. To see the change I'm part of, but most of all to remind myself of where I came from."

She had uncrossed her arms and angled her body towards him over the table. A determined expression rests on her face. He hadn't taken his eyes of her from the moment she started talking.

He looks at her thoughtfully for a moment, considering his reply.

"Very well" he says while some of the tension visibly drains away from his body. She raises her eyebrows in question. "Then it's only time you started showing me your carvings in return. Some good blocks of wood have gone missing. I overheard Blackwall complaining about recently." He shares the accusations with a bemused smile on his lips.

Now it was her turn to blush.

"I was planning on showing you, but first I wanted to practice… " she trailed off her sentence, knowing she doesn't actually have a valid excuse for hiding it from him. And it was not like she hadn't backed him into a corner first.

Feeling relieved he wasn't pulling away at her recent discovery she changes her mind with newfound courage and stands up abruptly while extending her hand in invitation. The purpose of their late night reading session forgotten.

"You're right. And I'm willing to offer you a tour of my recent carving exploits, but only if you can refrain from commenting over the woodchips carpeting the floor." He starts to move as if to get up but she makes him pause as she isn't done yet. "But in turn I will pose for your next drawing." Solas looks at her confused for a moment, as if considering her question.

She pauzes for a moment and adds without hesitation.

"Naked."

"What?"

"That's right."

From a balcony upstairs they could hear some muffled movement followed by a familiar voice echoing down "You know Solas, if you're looking for nude models you only need to ask!"

"Dorian!" they say in unison, horrified.

Solas quickly tucks the sketches under his arm and stands up to grasp her hand, surprising her by pulling her close so fast she has to steady herself with her other hand landing on his chest.

Only a breath away from her ear he says softly so only she can hear.

"It seems like you found yourself a deal, ma Vhenan."

She squeezes his hand in response and when she looks at him there isn't a hint of his previous embarrassment. Instead there is a look of hunger and challenge in his eyes. It's so easy then, to lean over and kiss him, her lips a promise and Dorian's earlier interuption temporarily forgotten. Before she can get lost in the soft press of his lips she pulls back and feels a delighted thrill in the way he slightly chases them as she takes a step back. With a teasing smile on her lips she tugs on his hand bringing him back to reality and encouraging him to follow. As they make their way quietly towards the door she throws a judgemental look over her shoulder towards where she imagines Dorian to be hiding.

She is just able to make out a muffled conversation on the first floor "… These lovesick fools seem to keep forgetting this is a public space, if they don't want an audience they should find a room!"

Not sure if she should be terribly embarrassed or slightly thankful for Dorians intervention she doesn't manage to hide her smile.

"Let's get out of here then." she says as they start to make their way through Skyhold.

He squeezes her hand.

"Gladly."

[feymaid]

Queen Fiona I love you!!! 💕

Wanted to draw @deeplord’s Aeducan because she is my favorite!

[crunchbuttsteak]

In a world state where a Surana Warden romanced Alistair, do you think Loghain saw them together and was just like “This is Maric all over again isn’t it?”